Whisper Something Fragile
by ReadItAndWeep
Summary: How could I explain that, for some reason, I couldn’t hurt him? Not the fact that I didn’t want to- but I couldn’t. Like, it was an impossibility. He wouldn’t get it, because I didn’t either. OCxJoe
1. I Hate My Best Friend

**Prologue**

I really didn't deserve either of them at this point. Things had gone way too far; farther than I'd ever planned. Though I really hadn't planned any of this. That, at least, was a small reassurance. Tiny, to put things into perspective. But a reassurance nonetheless. And I needed lots of those, lately, to convince myself I wasn't a completely horrible person.

It wasn't really my fault at all, I kept telling myself. Hormones had twisted this lie, had spun this messy web.

But a small voice in the back of my head kept repeating itself, like a scratched disc; _had you been in better control of them…_

I groaned, trying to push myself deeper into the mattress, to make myself disappear forever. That way I might be able to save them from hurting. But no matter what, I was going to hurt one of them. Or both, really, just one less than the other.

_Or you could stop being completely selfish._

I hated that voice. It was always right.

**Chapter 1**

I thought back to that dreary autumn day. The sky was a consistent shade of grey, spreading itself as far as I could see. My toes were going numb in this cold weather, I could feel it. I hugged my bear arms, rubbing my hands against them, trying to warm them up with the friction. I rebelled against the weather, wearing flip-flops, shorts and a tank. Now I just felt ridiculous.

Ducking under the low branches of a pine tree, I followed the winding familiar route that took me to one of my favourite places in the world. It was also one of my least favourite, in a way.

Pulling open the heavy door, I felt the corners of my mouth turn up. I breathed in the familiar scent of the forest after rain, and was greeted with a gruff, "'Morning, Molly." from Woody. He was old, with thick white caterpillar eyebrows and a snowstorm of silvery hair on his head, but he was strong. His face was lined with creases, and yet he was still able to haul about as many logs around as the his two teenage apprentices combined.

Joe, the older of the brothers, walked in with a bowl in one of his big sun-kissed hands. "'Mornin'" was all he could say in between bites.

"I could cook, if you wanted…" I said, my voice trailing off as I eyed whatever Joe was eating.

"Don't worry yourselves over these boys," said Woody with a low chuckle.

"It's good," added Joe, pushing a spoon of muck into my face. I back away. "Try some."

"No thanks," I said, wrinkling my nose.

"Aww, cut it _out_, Joe!" A tired Kurt called out as he came down the stairs. His brown hair was sticking in every different direction, and he yawned loudly.

"Jus' tryin' to give your girl a little extra protein." Joe said, ruffling Kurt's hair, which matched his own. That was about the only resemblance between the two. Joe was almost a head taller, and Kurt was much skinnier. Kurt wore his hair shorter, but Joe kept his almost to his chin. Joe had dark chocolate eyes, but Kurt's had more green in his, more of a topaz.

It was a good thing they were bickering, not paying attention to me at all. Otherwise they might have noticed the way I had reacted when Joe had said _your girl_. They might have noticed the way that my smile wasn't as wide as before, the way it looked almost forced.

Because that little voice in the back of my head told me that I knew I wished it was the other way around; Kurt referring to me as _Joe's girl_. It told me not to deny my attraction for Joe, when I knew there was nothing there for Kurt.

I told that voice to shut up.

It wasn't like this in the beginning. When I first showed up, I hadn't noticed Kurt at all. I had seen nothing but Joe.

The first day I had arrived, I had met Gwen, whom I had made an instant connection with. She had bright, dancing eyes and long blonde hair. We had talked for a bit, and I thought that was the end of it. But later that night she showed up at my door, telling me to forget packing, and that we were going dancing. Dancing! I didn't think there was any place to go like that in such a small town. I was thrilled.

It wasn't really like any of the clubs we had in the city. Actually, it wasn't a club at all. It was a bar, but that worked just the same. Apart from the waitress, Gwen and I were the only females in there. Which suited me just fine. And we were the only ones dancing, which suited me just fine as well. People were looking, but I didn't care one bit. I lived for the spotlight. At least, I used to. But that's a story for later.

When Gwen and I went to sit down and get a drink, I noticed the beautiful boy, well man, really, staring at me, a crooked smile on his face and his eyebrows raised. It was dark, so I couldn't really see the color of his eyes, only that they were a darker shade. He had a straight nose and his lips were full, for a man. I felt my heart hammering away at my ribs, as if it were trying to break them.

I felt my mouth open in a little o, and I heard my sharp intake of breath. Gwen turned to me.

"Who is _that?_" I asked, mystified. Gwen let out a little laugh at my reaction, silver bells tinkling.

"That's Joe," she answered, giving him a small wave. He raised his glass to us. "Want me to call him over?"

"No!" I said, feeling my face flush, hot under my touch. "I mean, no. No, I don't think I could handle that." My voice was barely a whisper, now. She looked at me, her perfect eyebrows slanting in and her lips pursed, but she didn't ask any questions. I liked her for that.

For the next few weeks, I tried to make up for my behaviour that first night. Every time I saw Joe, I'd give a little smile, or let my eyes flash to his face for a second before looking away. Most of the time he was looking back, a mysterious smile on his face. This continued for a while, but never went any farther than that.

Then came the fireworks festival. Gwen and I had planned to watch them together, seeing as how we were both dateless. But she got asked out last-minute, leaving me by myself. I knew she felt bad, because she told me and asked me if I was ok with it before she said yes. I told her to have fun. Date or no date, I was going anyways. So I ended up on the scratchy sand of the beach by myself, watching the way Joe's face in the bright colors that only lasted for a second at a time more than the fireworks themselves. One time I must have started spacing out when I was looking at him, because when I came to I saw him looking right at me, a big grin stretched across his face.

My face flushed, and I was grateful for the darkness so that he couldn't see. I scrambled to stand up, wiping the sand off my bare legs and my skirt, before walking as fast as I could without running until I was out of his view. The instant I was sure I was, I kicked off my flip-flops and started full-out sprinting back to the Inn where I stayed, a shoe in each hand.

I ran all the way to the Inn and up the stairs to my room , not bothering to put my shoes on. Throwing myself onto the bed fully dressed, I buried my face into my pillow, wishing I never had to get up.

Unfortunately, I forgot about Gwen. She woke up early, even when she stayed out late, and she needed almost no sleep to run at full pace through the whole day.

"Molly, Molly, Molly!" She cried, and I heard the springs in the mattress squeak as she bounced onto the bed next to me. As usual, she looked gorgeous, though she was still in her pyjamas and her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. No dark circles under her eyes, either.

"How many hours of sleep did you get?" I asked, yawning and stretching my toes off the edge of the bed.

"Three," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Normal people need sleep," I told her, but she acted as if she didn't hear me. That, or she just didn't.

"Guess what, Molly?"

"Wha-at?" I said, managing to stretch the word into two syllables thanks to the yawn in between.

"He kissed me!"

"What? Who did?"

"Dan, _duh. _Who else?" She rolled her eyes at my slowness.

"I don't know- I'm tired." Only then did she notice that I looked worse than usual in the morning.

"What happened to _you?_" Her eyes grew wider, taking in my appearance. I groaned.

"Joe caught me staring at him." I said reluctantly.

"Were you?"

"Well, yeah… but I spaced out." She frowned. "Here, take this." I said offering her my pillow. "Hold it onto my face 'till I stop moving, 'kay?" Gwen took the pillow, but put it behind her head instead, laying down next to me.

"We're going out." I started to protest, but she shushed me. "I don't care what the weather is like today, put on whatever you look best in." She looked over at me, and took in my expression. "Then," She continued, smiling, "we're going to walk over by the wood shop."

"That's it? That's your brilliant plan? What if he doesn't see us?" Another question popped into my head, enveloping me in fear. I didn't say it out loud, though. Gwen frowned, finally realising how many ways her plan could fail.

"Then we walk by again?"

"We'll look like stalkers."

"Hey! What day is it today, anyways?" My eyebrows furrowed; I tried to see where this conversation was going.

"Tuesday, I think. Why?" Gwen smiled, which made me believe I didn't really want to know.

"No reason. Do you want to go swimming?" I eyed her, wondering why the sudden change in topic. I sighed, giving up.

"…Fine." Gwen let out a squeal of joy.

"I'll meet you back here in a few minutes, ok?" It wasn't really a question, because she didn't wait for my answer. Instead, she raced out of there before I could change my mind. I had a bad feeling about this.

Nevertheless, I pulled on my bathing suit and put on my flip flops that were still at the end of my bed where I had dropped them the night before. Wrapping a towel around my waist the same way Gwen did, I had just finished when I heard a knock on my door.

The way to the springs was fairly quiet, as I was deep in thought, trying to decipher Gwen's relentless train of thought. My most reasonable theory was that she had ADD. I didn't need to wait long, though, because as soon as we stepped into the clearing nestled into the rock, I realised I was dead wrong.

My words came out in a growl, "Gwen, I _hate_ you."

**Author's Notes: **_Well, here it is; the first chapter. Which I still haven't named (suggestions are welcome!). Still not quite sure what to put here. Oh well. Constructive criticism is always needed; I'd love to hear your questions, thoughts, musings- anything!_

**Edit: **_Thanks to Sleepy Snake for pointing out my punctuation error!_


	2. We Say Summer

**Chapter 2**

I can't believe this, said that voice. How slow are you? You should have seen this from _miles _away.

Of course. It all fell into place, now. Tuesday, the wood shop was closed. Tuesday, Joe went fishing.

"I am _not_," I started, my voice a whisper, "prancing around in a bikini for a _boy._"

"Who's prancing?" Gwen asked, her eyes wide with mock innocence. I fumed. I was not stupid enough to see that this was part of her plan. I wished I was.

"I'm going back," I told her, turning on my heel. She caught the top of my arm.

"Oh, no you are _not_." She hissed. "We came to go swimming. Who cares if Joe and Kurt are here?"

"Who's Kurt?" This time she wasn't faking surprise.

"Are you serious? He's Joe's little brother." I peeked around her. Certainly enough, there was another figure next to Joe. He looked like he was having about as much fun as I was. Suddenly, he looked up, directly at me. He blushed, and looked back down at the water.

"Oh. Well whatever, fine. I'll stay." Gwen let go of the top of my arm.

An awkward silence settled over the clearing as Gwen and I settled into the hot spring. A few feet away was the lake, where the two brothers were fishing. They had their backs to us, but were in easy hearing distance, so we didn't say much. After about ten minutes, Gwen stood up, stretching. "C'mon, I want to show you something. Quick, stand up!" I scrambled up, a little sleepy from the heat, wondering what she wanted to show me.

Stepping out of the hot spring warily, I saw her eyes flash and a grin spread across her face, showing rows of perfect white teeth. She grabbed the top of my arm again, and started running towards the lake.

"No! No, Gwen, no! It's gonna be _cold!_ We just got out of the hot spring! No!" But my protests went unheard, and she only started pulling me along faster. Gwen pulled me along, my heels dragging in the soft, damp grass. "No- don't! Please!" I cried, shutting my eyes tight and bracing myself for the cold.

It hit me like a kick to the stomach; I choked on the air trying to escape from my lips. I gasped, and the freezing water flooded my throat. Kicking at the muddy floor of the lake, I managed to propel myself up. At least, I was pretty sure I was going in the right direction. I had turned some of the mood loose, and transformed the clear blue water around my brown. I felt cold fingers wrap themselves around my wrist and pull me up towards the surface. My head broke the water, and I greedily sucked in the oxygen.

"What… the… _hell?_" I managed to sputter between my shaking lips.

"Oh, geez. I didn't know you couldn't swim. Sorry." Gwen's eyes were wide with innocent surprise and apology.

"I _can_." I argued, "but that was… _was frickin' cold! _That's what it was." I started to tread the water to prove my point.

"Well, I guess it _was_ your first time-"

"And my last," I interrupted, pretty sure I could talk normally now. Gwen sighed.

"Stop being such a baby about it, Molly. See? You're warming up already."

"I am not being a baby about it," I said, sticking my tongue out at her. That basically ruined my point. But she laughed anyways and flicked water at me. I splashed back, and she could tell that she was easily forgiven.

We started to swim back to shore where we had left our towels, but I felt a sharp tugging at the back of my head, like someone was trying to rip my hair out at the roots. I moved forward, but I was pulled back again. "_Oww._" I complained, "There's something in my hair…"

"Let's see… oh!"

"What is it?" I asked, completely curious to as what was stuck in my hair. I ran through a list of possibilities in my head.

"Here, swim over this way." She said, pointing over to where the boys were sitting, fishing poles in hand. They were looking at us with the same expression I was pretty sure I wore at the time.

"What is it?" I asked again, obeying her. When we stepped onto the muddy bank, I could feel Gwen's cold fingers holding up my hair away from my neck.

"Joe? Could you give me a hand over here?" I felt my knees buckle, my heart racing, sending blood rush up to my face, my neck. I heard the sound of the damp grass give way under his weight.

"What is-" He started, then he gave out a low, throaty laugh. "Hold her hair up a bit more, here, won't you?" I was concentrating on breathing as I felt his fingers leave trails of fire down the back of my neck. I failed miserably as soon as his cool breath washed them away. I exhaled in short, chopped up breaths, and they were so loud! It was embarrassing.

Suddenly, I felt a short tugging, and then he was no longer behind me. Gwen let my wet hair fall. I turned around, my eyes wide with curiosity. Then I recognized the thin metal wire in Joe's hand, curved around like a question mark. " A fish hook!" I said, watching as the sun reflected off the small silver object.

"Good job, genius." Gwen muttered under her breath, sniggering. Joe laughed again, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Guess I won't be doing much more fishing today."

"Sorry." I said, blushing again.

"Don't worry about it. I have to make some more anyways." My eyes widened.

"You made that?" I took the small object from his hands, examining the small loop in the wire where the fishing line was meant to go. I looked back at his hands; they seemed much too large to perform such a small task. "How?" My voice came out in a whisper. He laughed again at my amazement. I loved that laugh.

"We gotta go back, Joe. Woody's gonna be waiting." The three of us turned to look. It was Kurt, standing by their fishing gear. His stance was that of nonchalance, but his eyes were open with innocence.

"Oh, sorry; here." I said, handing the gleaming object back to Joe.

"Naw, you keep it. Won't do me much good anyhow." I wondered why, examining it again, until I noticed that the point looked much to dull to do any harm. The point must have broken off.

On the walk home I twirled it between my fingers, making it throw the light in all different directions. Gwen rolled her eyes but smiled anyways. "So… you still mean it?

"Mean what?" I asked.

"You still hate me?" I pretended to think about it.

"Hmmm… yes."

"What?" She asked, her voice going an octave higher.

"Wow, Gwen, don't be such a baby about it!" I laughed, and she laughed with me. And all was well for then. Before I completely destroyed my life for the next year by uttering a few words.

But for the meantime, everything was alright.

**Author's Notes: **_Don't really like this chapter, but it'll be really important closer to the end. I lovelovelove comments and the like- don't ever hesitate! I'd like to know if people actually read this. Constructive criticism is always welcomed and enjoyed. _


	3. Unwanted Whirlwinds

**Chapter 3**

Green leaves had finally started to fade into brown, dancing in the air before they fluttered to the damp ground, announcing the arrival of fall. They crunched under my feet as I grudgingly made my way into Lyla's flower shop. It had other things, too, but mostly flowers. Not that I really cared.

Anyways, I worked a couple days a week here. Nothing major. Just enough to support myself in this town. Everything was made here, hardly anything was imported, so it was all fairly cheap. And you got discounts if you were well-liked. Which I was. Well-liked, I mean.

I didn't even realise how well-liked I was until that one fateful day that Kurt came into the shop, his head bowed, hands stuffed into his pockets. I saw him raise his head a little to let his eyes flicker to some of the ceramics. But I didn't really pay him any attention. I was busy flipping through an old magazine I had found, reading the articles about "snagging the perfect guy."

Suddenly, Kurt cleared his throat, and I looked up at him. My gaze must've been a bit too intense, however, because he soon looked right back down at his brown weathered shoes. "So, um, I was wondering…" He began. I sighed. "Do you want to, maybe, I don't know… go out with me?"

I felt like a spotlight had been put on me. Like I was in the middle of a stage, and I was supposed to deliver lines I had never even heard. Like everyone was waiting, breath held, for me to say something that fit the subject. My mind raced, searching for words. I glanced around, looking for anyone to come to my aide. But the small shop was empty, besides the two of us. Except it felt crowded. And the small fan by the counter that was faced right at me seemed to stop. I was sweating, but I felt cold. Numb. I tried to use my voice. My throat felt dry and cracked. _No! Just say it, no!_ screamed that voice. I felt my tongue form the word in my mouth. I started to open my cracked lips. "N-" I started. "Yes."

Wait. Wait, no. That wasn't supposed to happen. What the hell? No! No, no, no! Where did that come from? How did that word force itself through customs? I had to have some type of filter, didn't I? Didn't I?

But Kurt looked up at me, his eyes wide. "Oh," he exhaled the word, almost as if he had been holding his breath. Just like I would be. I would be holding my breath until I stopped wanting air. "Oh." He said again. "Great!" Yay. Some type of enthusiasm. Unlike Joe.

Oh, crap. Don't think like that, I commanded myself. Don't you even dare. Don't you dare think about how much fluffier his hair looks compared to Kurt's, about how much prettier his eyes are. Don't think about his rough warm hands tracing your skin…

I wanted to punch myself in the face. I wasn't even paying attention to Kurt. I was too busy drowning myself in my own abyss. Burying myself alive in a hole I had dug for myself. My mind felt blank, and I was pretty sure, from the look Kurt was giving me, that my face looked blank, too. "Um…" He continued, eyeing my warily. I probably looked as pale as I felt. "Well, the moon festival's tomorrow. Do you maybe want to meet me in the Square?" Sure, yeah, I heard my voice tell him. It was my voice, but it wasn't me. Of that I was sure. "Six, then?" He asked, and I nodded weakly. He was backing out of the shop, and for that I was grateful. I could fall into pieces privately.

Sinking into the plastic lawn chair set up, I wound one of my arms around my stomach. It felt as if I had punched a hole into my gut. I would have definitely preferred it.

It never would have worked out with Joe, I told myself uncountable times. Never, so don't worry about it. Better this than… than what? Nothing? Because growing old by myself seemed fairly reasonable right now. Or maybe choking in my room alone, no one to help. That seemed better.

After having convinced myself many times I was a horrible person, I left a couple hours early. No one would show up anyhow. The only person to have shown up all day was Kurt, and all he wanted was a hand in my personal destruction.

I ran straight into Gwen's room. We had given each other keys in case of personal emergencies. Like this one. I threw myself onto her bed, only to realise there was a shape already there. Gwen rolled over. "Molly?" This surprised me. I blinked.

"Since when do you sleep?" She rolled her eyes, then searched my face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked, propping herself up onto a pillow. I must have looked worse than I thought. I mimicked her, pulling the other pillow under my elbow before I told her what had happened. She seemed to find it funny that I wanted to say "no" but failed. I smacked her arm playfully.

"It's not funny! What do I _do?_" I wailed. I was not usually a wailing kind of person, but today I made an exception. She stifled her laugh some more, before continuing.

"Have you ever seen that movie, How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days?"

"Still not funny." I growled.

"But seriously, if you thought about it, it _could_ be."

"You might find using people's emotions to be amusing, but I don't. It was a movie, not real day people." I pointed out, nodding my head to confirm my point.

"Okay, fine then. Just go on the date and then say you like him as a friend." I chewed my bottom lip.

"I suppose that could maybe work…" I said thoughtfully.

"See? Problem solved." And as much as I wanted to believe her, I knew it wasn't. But sometimes I liked to pretend.

After the moon festival with Kurt, which turned out to be about ten times more awkward than I ever could've imagined it, he walked me to the Inn. I wasn't really looking at him, more over his shoulder, really, when I cleared my dry throat.

"Kurt, look, I really like you but-" I started, not really quite sure how to put it. _Just spit it out already!_ "But-" I was cut off. Kurt pressed his mouth to mine, my eyes still open, my hands still balled up into fists at my sides. Before I could react at all, he jogged away.

This was going to be much harder than I thought.


	4. Guilty Pleasure

**Chapter 4**

Well. This was going by way too fast. I had to draw some boundaries. And fast. This was not the kind of whirl-wind romance I wanted. Actually, this was like nothing I wanted, and I began to hate myself more and more for it.

Half-dazed, I forced my legs to pull myself up the stairs and into my room. Gwen was waiting on my bed.

"So, how'd it go?" She asked, putting down the magazine she was reading. The same one I was reading in the flower shop.

"You can keep that, I don't want it," I said, nodding towards the magazine in her hands. She gave me a confused look.

"Okay, thanks. But what happened?"

"It didn't work." I said, sitting myself down at the end of the bed.

"What do you mean it didn't work?"

"He kissed me."

"He _kissed_ you? After you said you wanted to just be friends?" She asked, disbelieving.

"I didn't quite get there…" I mumbled. This was horrible. I was finding myself in a downwards spin. Gwen put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Is that my nail polish?" I asked her, eyeing her bright green-blue nails. She blushed.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind. I was getting kind of bored."

"No, no, not at all." I assured her. I started to laugh. Here my world was falling apart, and we were discussing the use of my nail polish. It wasn't a ha-ha laugh. It was more hysterical. I fell back onto the bed.

"Do you want me to do it for you?" She asked. I blinked.

"Do what?"

"Tell Kurt you like him as a friend, Smart One." I considered this, ignoring the jab.

"That might make me seem like a coward, though, won't it?"

"Maybe, I wouldn't know." I sighed.

"I guess I have to do it myself."

"Looks like it. But I could come with you if you want."

"Thanks, Gwen, but I think this is something I have to do for me."

"Yeah… but I'm always here, if you ever need anything." We lay there, and the fact that I had my own personal safety net comforted me and took off some of the guilt. "Hey…" She started.

"Mmm?" I asked, my eyes closed.

"Can I paint your nails?" I let out a small laugh. Because this time there was actually something to laugh about.

For the next few days I stayed inside my room, afraid to leave. Gwen came by a few times, once asking me what she should tell Kurt. Wow, he has conversed with someone. Kudos for him. I said that out loud, but told Gwen just to say I was sick. She came by later, asking if I had seen the doctor yet. Okay, now he was just being nosy, I told her.

"No," she protested. "It was Joe that asked that." I felt my heart speed up at the mention of his name.

"Oh, well tell them I've had it before, so it's okay." She sighed.

"Molly, I think you need to break it off, like, right now. You've turned into a hermit." She was right, of course, and I had been waiting for this. I chewed my bottom lip.

"Now? Right now? As in, get dressed and go tell him?" She gave me a pitying look.

"Yes, right now. It'll be the best thing for you."

"Okay, you're right." I agreed reluctantly. He gave me a comforting hug.

"Good luck." Those two words were comfort in themselves. Because Goddess knew I needed it.

That was how I found myself taking the familiar winding path down to my favourite and least favourite place in the world. Favourite because Joe was there. Least favourite because I was going to have to hurt someone there, and also because of how Joe made my body act.

It was cold out. Having not paid any attention to the weather from my bedroom window, I hadn't noticed the drastic change in climate.

I was greeted by Woody, and then Joe came in, all six feet two inches of him, a bowl in his big hand. I offered to cook, and Woody found this kind of amusing. Joe offered me some. I declined, and Kurt came down the stairs. They began to bicker, as brothers do. I had two of them myself.

I was beginning to enjoy myself, before I remembered why I was here.

"Kurt…" I started. Everything froze. "Can I speak to you outside… please?" He gave me a shy look, and nodded.

"Yeah sure." He pushed open the big door, holding it open for me. We walked around to the side of the shop, before I stopped.

"Um, well, you see…" I had absolutely no idea how to tell him. My mind raced, but at the same time was blank. Blank, blank, blank. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my legs, trying to concentrate, while greedily sucking in air like a fish out of water. I was panicking. My whole being shied away from even the idea of hurting someone else willingly. I repulsed myself. Chewing my bottom lip, I wrung my hands nervously in front of me, looking at everything but Kurt. I have no idea what he was thinking while I was tearing myself to pieces silently.

A couple of minutes might have passed, but he made no notice of this. For me it seemed like a couple of lifetimes. I fretted nervously, all the while standing still. "Kurt?" I mentally reeled back in shock, I was so far gone at the time. "Kurt? Woody needs your opinion on the plans for… oh." And I knew that small exhale-of-a-breath "oh" was for me. I probably looked like a mad-woman, standing there, wringing my hands and chewing off my lip, my eyes wide. "Am I…" He started, but Kurt was already walking back towards the shop.

"No, don't worry about it. See you, Molly." I didn't move. Inside my head I was still about a minute behind, reliving what had happened while everyone moved on. It was not a pleasant feeling.

I turned to go, not paying the other teenage apprentice any attention. I didn't care how I looked now, it was way too late to redeem myself.

I hadn't made it very far, my head still swarming with thoughts, when a burning hand wrapped itself around my wrist. "Molly, wait." I turned around.

"Joe?" I asked, confused.

"I need to talk to you." His cool breath blew into my face, and for this I was grateful. My mind instantly went blank, drowning out all the thoughts I didn't want to hear.

"Joe, what-" I started, but I couldn't finish.

He mashed his lips onto mine and I was pushed up onto the side of the shop. I felt the rough wood on my back, but it didn't matter, because I also felt his burning fingers clutching frantically at the skin on my waist. His mouth softened when he realized I wasn't going to fight back. He let out a tiny gasp of elation when I didn't resist, and I suddenly felt my hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer, my lips moving with his. His warm hands left my waist, one knotting in the roots of my hair, the other bowing my back, so I was pulled closer to him. His lips left mine, and his nose traced my jaw down to my throat.

"Joe, I can't, I can't…" I didn't know how to finish this sentence. I put my hands on his chest and pushed gently, felt the muscles there. I felt his cool breath mixing with mine, and I shivered when I felt his teeth graze my earlobe. But then his next three words scared me, chilled me to the bone. My eyes opened wide, and I felt numb, my mind racing, coming up blank.

Those, at the time, were the scariest three words I had ever heard.

**Author's Notes: **_Wow, sorry about the chapter 2 error! Sorry for the lack of updates lately. Was on vacation 'till yesterday. R&R, please and thank you!_


	5. Midnight Morphine Confession

**Chapter 5**

Technically, it was four words. Except for the first one didn't affect me at all, so I decided to not count that one. The first one didn't clear my mind to the point of extremes that the other three had. It didn't make the autumn chill seem like the dead of winter. It didn't have any sort of effect on me, so I barely heard it at all. To me, at the time, there was only three words that made it to my brain.

"But _I want you._"

It was barely a whisper, but it seemed like he was shouting it at me. I recoiled instantly as if he had. I blinked. Once, twice, three times. Too much. Too much to handle in such a short time. I might have said that out loud. I might have thought it. I don't know.

I didn't even realize I had run back to the Inn until I woke up in my room. At least, I was pretty sure I had run back. That made the most sense.

Except what didn't make sense was that Joe walked out of my bathroom a few minutes later. I hadn't heard anything. Maybe, had I paid attention, I would have seen his boots at the door. I checked the clock. Two seventeen flashed at me in digital numbers. Day or night, I wasn't sure, so I peeked under the curtain, greeted by silhouettes of tall oak trees almost invisible against a starless night.

Huh. I said. At least I think I did. I shrugged.

I heard a creak, then felt a weight pressing close to my leg. Joe eyed me with his intense stare. I looked back, my eyes wide with innocence and confusion. Heck, throw in some bewilderment, too, just for fun. I wasn't quite sure how much time has gone by before he said my name. That was it, just, "Molly."

"Joe." I barely recognized my voice, coated with hours of sleep. I sat up on my pillows, just to prove that yes, I was awake, and yes, I was ready for conversation. Then a small horror shook me. "Was I talking in my sleep?" He ignored my question with a grim smile, and parried it with his own.

"Does your ankle hurt?" It wasn't until then that I felt the pain. Well, I had, but my mind was too fuzzy to pinpoint it. All I knew was that, subconsciously, I hurt. And then I noticed that my left foot was, under the covers, a lot bigger that my right foot.

"What-?" I didn't know what to say. I lifted up the covers to peek at the damage. I inhaled sharply, a loud whistle compared to the silence. My left foot was coated in white bandages, tripling it in size. I tried to wiggle my toes. Bad idea. It sent thousands of needles up my leg. Then I noticed something else.

I was in my pyjamas. Not the clothes I had started in. I spluttered.

"Why am I in my pyjamas? What the hell! What happened!" Hot, angry tears burned at the corners of my eyes.

"Shhh Molly. You'll wake everyone up. Don't worry. Gwen did it, not me. You were unconscious. I felt bad. I offered to watch you." All these choppy sentences, delivered in quick, raspy whispers. His voice still made them sound like music.

The melody of his voice stopped me before his words had. "Oh." This I was sure I said, because it made me sad. My voice was sandpaper compared to his velvet. I frowned. The unexpected sadness overwhelmed me before I could be embarrassed. I didn't like this feeling- it was somehow familiar. It tied into the scent of clean metal, and lights that hurt my eyes, and rushed, unhappy voices. _The hospital, _my subconscious delivered for me. "Am I on morphine?" That made more sense.

"Yeah." I could tell he didn't really like the idea.

"How bad?" My eyes were opened wide. All my actions were exaggerated by reflex. I didn't like it.

"Doc thinks it's a broken ankle. No way to be sure. You were unconscious for a good fourteen hours, at least. There was one point-" he frowned, "when we thought you woke up, but it was a false alarm." I groaned.

"What did I say?" He ducked his head, and told me it was nothing. I said I didn't believe him, and that Gwen would tell me. I tried to get up.

"No, you can't walk. Doc says you have to stay on bed rest for a while." My eyes narrowed. Why did he keep calling the doctor "doc?"

"How long?"

"I don't know, he didn't specify- a week, I think he said, at the least."

"How did it happen?" I hated being on morphine. It was like being drunk and being aware of it, but you couldn't really do anything about it. I could feel it wearing off a little bit, though, because when I moved my foot, it hurt. Lots. But at least I could feel it. Not that I was masochistic or anything.

"You tripped, and fell. I carried you back here. Gwen was mad, she thought I did something. Someone called for the doctor. I think you should know-" He cleared his throat, "I, uh, told Gwen everything." I raised my eyebrows. "She thought it was funny." I frowned at this. I opened my mouth to say something, but he filled the silence before I could. "Molly, you don't like Kurt. Gwen told me," he added, before I could object. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear, leaving my skin burning where he had touched it before continuing. "Not the way I like you, anyways. Why?" My irritation with Gwen dissolved when the pain finally leaked through into Joe's voice on the last word. I met his eyes. They smouldered, even in the dark.

How could I explain that, for some reason, I couldn't hurt Kurt? Not the fact that I didn't want to- but I _couldn't_. Like, it was an impossibility. He wouldn't get it, because I didn't either. I didn't even know Kurt. "I-I don't know," came my weak excuse. He pressed the back of his hand onto my cheek. It burned, but I curled my cold fingers around it, holding it to my face.

"Please?" Please, what? I didn't get it. But I didn't ask. It was too confusing. The words muddled in my head. I closed my eyes.

"I don't get it…" I murmured. He pulled his hand away from my face. "No." I said, frowning. His hand found mine, and I felt his lips brush against my skin. I smiled, my eyes still closed. "Thanks."

Content, I let go of the cliff I was holding onto in my head, letting myself fall back into unconsciousness.

**Author's Notes: **_Thanks for the reviews, they really help! And, yes I know the beginning is, well, very clichéd. But I promise it gets more original. Just bear with me, 'kay?_


	6. Like A Curse

**Chapter 6**

I woke up to the morning light filtering through the cracks between the wall and the curtain. I stretched my arms and legs, trying to get rid of the stiff feeling. Reflexively, I pointed my toes, sending sharp pangs and memories of last night to my brain. Slowly, everything came back to me, and I watched it replay in my head with horror. Wondering why he wouldn't tell me what I had said in my sleep, I swung my legs of the bed. Curiously, and stupidly, I must admit, I tried to stand up. I wobbled once, found my balance, and then fell over.

"Oww," I muttered, pushing myself up with my hands and rolling over. It was then that I noticed I wasn't alone. Joe had fallen asleep sitting against my wall, his head rolled back and arms crossed. His eyelids fluttered.

"Molly?" He asked, confused.

"Oh, sorry." I said. I felt kind of ridiculous, turned over on my back, unable to get up. I looked up at him from the floor; he was upside down.

"What are you doing?" He shook his head, standing up slowly.

"Attempting to walk." Joe crossed to wear I was lying in two easy steps, bending down, arms outstretched. I understood a little late. "You know what? I think I'm comfortable from the floor. So if you don't mind, I think I'll just stay here." I could tell he found this slightly amusing.

"Do you know what Gwen would do to me if she knew I let you stay there?"

"You better hope you don't find out." Joe turned to look at the door, still crouched down. I craned my neck. Gwen was holding the door to my room open, carrying what looked like breakfast with her. My stomach growled in response.

"Alright, alright- but only for your sake," I added, letting him wrap his arms around me. It felt lots better than I ever could have imagined, and he smelt good, too, like the rain. Which was now my new favourite smell, I decided. All too soon, he placed me back on the bed. Damn it.

Gwen brought the trays over, placing them on my lap. They were a little too warm, so I lifted them up a bit. "So what were you crazy kids up to last night? Heard some noise." I blushed.

"I was… taken by surprise, is all." Joe leaned across the far wall, letting Gwen take the spotlight, a place I was sure she enjoyed far too much.

"Oh, okay, yeah. Bummer about your ankle. Does it hurt?" I nodded. "Can I sign it?" Her eyes danced. She had already pulled out a purple Sharpie, and was removing the lid. I sighed in mock frustration.

"Fine- but don't write anything that's going to make me regret letting you." She rolled her eyes and bent over my ankle. A minute later she stepped back to view her masterpiece. There, written in purple Sharpie on my enormous foot, was written, "GWEN WAS HERE." To top it off, a giant purple heart encircled it. It took up almost the whole cast. I looked closer, and noticed that in much, much smaller letters it said "GET WELL SOON."

"Thanks, Gwen. I love the effort you put into that. You certainly have a way with words." I let the sarcasm roll thick into my voice. She rolled her eyes.

"Just eat." I turned back to the food on my lap. Gwen leaned in closer, and while I shovelled food into my mouth, whispered, "How did it go?" I wrinkled my nose and shook my head in answer.

"It didn't." She pulled back, noticing from the volume of my voice that I didn't really care if Joe heard or not. "Oh," was all she said. I guess there wasn't really much anyone could say to that. We talked some more about how long I had to stay in bed, and how I owed her if she was going to have to be my maid for a week. But the conversation wasn't as light and easy as it had been before she brought up Kurt, and dealing with Kurt. Which I really didn't want to do, so I was slightly glad I wouldn't have to for at least another week.

After she left, Joe turned on me. "Who's Paul?"

"Paul?" I blinked. Where had he heard that name? His eyes were cold when he looked at me. Through me.

"Don't play stupid. After you went back to sleep, you kept saying you loved him. Who is he? One of your boyfriends from the city?" Wow, he really had done his homework on me. I never told him I was from the city. But then the rest of what he said reached my ears, transferred through my filter. I reeled back, hot, angry tears stringing at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill.

"_One _of my boyfriends?" I asked. "Are you suggesting there were more?" He shrugged.

"Who knows? I sure as hell don't. I mean, you won't break it off with my brother, but you kissed me back. So as far as I know, it's me, Paul and Kurt." I went numb, ignoring most of what he said. When he said it like that, it all fell into place. Paul and Kurt. Kurt and Paul. It all made sense now. I stared worshipfully at him.

"You've figured it out!"

"Damn right I have!" He growled.

"No, no- listen. I'll ignore the fact that you were being a complete and total ass-" He looked at me. "Yes you were, so don't even argue that." I leaned under my bed, pulling out the suitcase from under it. I rummaged through it for a minute, before I pulled out a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it gently, spreading out the creases with my thumbs, before I handed it to him. He hesitated before taking it from me, curiosity finally taking the better of him. He studied it for a minute, his brows furrowing.

"You and Kurt…?" I shook my head, a smile on my face.

"No! That's Paul." He looked up at me, confusion obvious on his beautiful face. "My brother." I clarified. He sucked in a breath, a pained expression revealing itself. He cringed.

"Oh, Goddess, Molly, I am so sorry! I didn't know, I wouldn't have said those things had I- had I known. I really wouldn't have, honest." Then I remembered. My face hardened, eyes ablaze.

"He's dead. Paul." This wasn't my voice- it had a dead sound to it, and I didn't care if it made him hurt. Because the things that he said were ringing in my ears, sending echoes through my head. "He died in a car crash- went right through the windshield." I almost liked the way this made his face look pained, though it was still gorgeous. He deserved to hurt from what he said. But I took a step back and looked at myself- I wouldn't stoop down to this level. His level. I was mature enough not to play foolish games.

"I'm really, really sorry Molly- I'll do anything to make it up to you." I didn't like the way my name sounded through his lips, his agonized voice trembling. I wish he'd stop saying it. I started to shake. I covered my face with my hands.

"I'm a horrible person!" I wailed. "I shouldn't have told you that- I shouldn't have made you feel worse- I'm- I'm sorry!" I choked. And at once his comforting arms were around me, but I was too distraught to notice.

"No, no, Molly. You're not a terrible person. I'm the one that brought this up. I'm glad you told me about your brother. I'm sorry, I really am." His breath tickled my hair tucked behind my ear.

"Stop saying that!" I growled in frustration.

"But I am. Really, I am."

"I don't care! Just don't say it." I sniffed. He sighed, sending shivers down my spine.

"Alright." We sat like that for a while, me in the crook of his arms. I felt light headed. My head swam with thoughts and memories. I wondered what the next week would be like, more importantly, what it would be like after the next week. But I shook my head to get rid of the thought.

I sighed. The doctor had finally removed my bandages. My right foot felt numb, and my whole body felt stiff. Apparently, my ankle wasn't broken, but merely sprained. I managed to pull myself out of bed, using the frame for support.

A feeling of dread hung over me like a dark cloud on a sunny day as I had a shower and got dressed. I took as much time as I wanted putting my shoes on, and constantly returning to the mirror to fix my hair. Finally, I was annoying myself, and couldn't put it off any longer.

I walked slowly, dragging my feet on the way. I felt my breaths quicken and shorten at the same time, and I felt my heart pounding, sending blood to my head. My ears buzzed, and my palms were sweaty.

Then, I heard the strum of a guitar. Instantly, I felt my feet pick up speed. My ears were perked, ready for the sound again. I followed the noise around to the back of the wood shop, where Kurt was sitting on one of the stumps, an acoustic guitar nestled on his lap. I stopped.

"I didn't know you played." He looked up, his face carved of stone.

"You didn't know much about me, _Molly_." He spat out my name, sneering. I felt cold all over. I opened my mouth stupidly, and then closed it. And then opened it again, like a dying fish washed up on the beach. His face warmed, and he looked amused at my confusion. So I settled for silence. And I waited for him to say something.

"I saw you with my brother." I looked at my feet. "I guess you didn't think I would, huh? I mean, how stupid do you think I am?"

"Kurt," I started, rummaging though my pockets for the picture. I knew I had put it in one of them. I pulled it out, and unfolded it, handing it to him. He gave me a look of utter loathing before taking it.

"Who is this?"

"Me and… my brother." I looked at him, and his face reflected the teenager he was, before being replaced with the stone mask.

"So?" I sighed.

"He's… dead. And I think that, subconsciously, I wanted to be near you, because you reminded me so much of him. But you see, I don't… like you, like you like me. I like you like a brother, because that's- that's just how it is." I was feeling strangely confident. He stood up, the neck of his guitar in one hand. "He used to play, too." Kurt took a step forward so we were inches apart.

"Molly…" He breathed my name, his voice tender, his eyes soft. "To hell with your subconscious!" He spat out that sentence, like it was a curse.

And that's exactly how I took it. Like a curse.

**Author's Notes: **_I was working all this weekend, and I'll be at the airport all of Friday, so I figured I owed a long chapter. I'll be out of country for a month as of the 25__th__, and might not be able to get to a computer, so I'll see if I can get another chapter in this week. Now here's your real author's notes: I'm just getting started! I reckon this story should be a good double of what it is now, if not more. Thank you for adding it to your favourites or reviewing! Also, I'm planning on entering a Harvest Moon fan fiction contest- but I only get to enter one chapter! I can't choose, so I thought I'd let the readers! Message me with which chapter you think should be entered._


	7. Maybe It's Just Me

**Chapter 7**

Days went by. I sulked a little, the memories of Kurt's face, his words, his cold, hard eyes all swirling together in a collage with what Joe had said. Like a living nightmare, I didn't wake up. I trudged instead of walking, found much more interest in the floor than I ever have.

It wasn't really what Kurt had said that had upset me. It could have been worse, much, much worse. But it was his expressions that bothered me. I didn't like that stone mask he wore. It bothered me to the point of extremities. No, it was the inevitable that bothered me more. That date that loomed just around the corner. But seeing as how I couldn't really have mental images of what was to come, I was haunted with things of the past.

Gwen had pulled me aside earlier and tried to give me a pep talk. I nodded and smiled, though I was sure it looked more grim than anything. She didn't know. I couldn't tell her. Not yet. Let her believe it was boy problems for a while.

But I couldn't lie to Joe, I told myself. I would have to come clean. We were trying to keep things toned down a notch so as not to completely torment his brother. At least, that's how he put it. If he never wanted to see me again I would've gone along with it. So the next time we ordered food at the Inn, I suggested we take it upstairs to my room. He went along, and I pulled him onto my bed, making him sit next to me. I wrung my hands, a habit I did out of nervousness, and he took each one gently and placed them in his lap.

"Molly, look at me." I did as he said, raising my eyes to meet his. My breathing calmed. I swallowed.

"Joe… did you ever wonder why I came here? Why anyone would move to this small village just to stay in a hotel?" His look was puzzled.

"I guess. I don't really know." I watched his eyes search my face for something underneath. I hoped he couldn't see the dread there.

"My brother Paul used to own the ranch here- obviously before you came." Joe opened his mouth to speak, but I continued. "He wanted me to come see- he had called my boss and everything ahead of time to get the days off. He died when we were driving to the airport. After the… funeral, my mom found the tickets in my apartment. And his will. He wanted me to have the ranch. She didn't tell me that 'till later, though." I sighed, chewing my lip. "She gave me the tickets. They were the kind that you could use anytime, told me I should go, get away from the city. I… I was scared of going in a car, after that. She thought it would be best." I blushed when I looked up, noticing that Joe's eyes were still on my face. His face was blank, though, like someone had drained all emotion from it.

"What about the ranch?"

"It was demolished when I arrived. The building was, at least. Just a pile of wood, now."

"I don't get it." He could sense the dread leaking its way into my voice.

"I was supposed to stay with my brother for three months. The ferry runs quarterly throughout the year."

"So?"

"How long have I been here, Joe?" He sucked in his breath, and I waited for him to figure it out.

"Two months and eleven days." I could tell he still didn't understand. I pulled my hands away, and wouldn't look at him.

"I'm leaving. In two weeks." That took him by surprise, I could tell. He made a choking noise in the back of his throat, and when I finally looked at his face his eyes were panicked.

"…No." His voice was hoarse and rough.

"I can't live here, Joe. Where am I going to stay? How am I going to support myself?" It was so plainly obvious, I don't know why he couldn't see it. I couldn't possible stay.

"You can stay with us! Woody won't mind- and you have a job, don't you?"

"I work two days a week- that's hardly enough to get by."

"Ask for more days."

"You think I want to make a living working in a flower shop?" It was frustrating- why couldn't he understand? "And I wouldn't want to ask you to put up with me- I couldn't ask that of Woody."

"What's so great about the city? What do you have there?" He went from pleading to angry so fast it scared me. I reeled back.

"I have family there, Joe."

"What about me? And Gwen? Does she know?" Now he was just playing dirty.

"No. She doesn't. And I would miss you terribly, so much I'm sure it would hurt for days on end." I was plainly stating a fact, but he looked at me differently now, like he had found a solution to all the problems anyone could ever dream up.

"So stay." It was barely a whisper. "Stay with me. You don't have to go." I looked into his pleading eyes once more, telling myself that I could do it. I could make him happy. I could stay, and never worry about anything else, ever. I could do it.

But I wouldn't. "I'm sorry." Tears burned at my eyes, spilling out onto my cheeks. His face crumpled, and I reached out for him, but he moved away. I sat there, on my bed, silently letting tears roll down my cheeks as I watched him leave. I heard his boots as he ran down the stairs angrily, and his angry roar as he shouted one word.

"Gwen!"

I pulled myself under the covers. I had hurt a person I loved, I was going to hurt a person I loved. I sank deep into the mattress, hoping to disappear forever. Maybe that way I could stop them from hurting. Maybe that way I wouldn't have to make awful decisions that tore me apart, shredding me to pieces.

Maybe that way would be best.

**Author's Notes: **_Another chapter! If my mom keeps leaving the house there should be another one this week, hopefully. Don't forget to message me your choice of chapter for the contest- check out the AN of the sixth chapter for full details._


	8. The City Is Contagious

**Chapter 8**

The next week was one of the worst of my life. I had hoped that everything would be cheers and smiles and Gwen and Joe and I would try to make the best of everything. I was the world's most deluded optimist, it would seem.

Gwen shot me pleading looks every time our eyes met, making me want to lock myself in my room. I did that, too. I didn't see Joe. This was probably for the best. I didn't want to see his pained expression, nor did I believe I could tell him once again I was going. Had I seen him again, I probably would have stayed. As luck would have it, I didn't.

But I constantly imagined what my future would be like if I stayed. It could be possible; I would just miss out on a few luxuries. And pollution, because I knew I didn't miss the smog. But I would miss my family. I would miss that coffee shop on the corner that always smelled of cinnamon. I would miss the sounds, the city lights that kept me up at night. It was all one big, uncoordinated musical. And to me, it was home.

I blamed myself for getting involved with Joe when I knew I was leaving. Hormones had led me blindly, forcing me to shove my heart into a paper shredder. At least, that's what it felt like.

Every piece of clothing thrown into a suitcase was another hole punctured into my side. Soon I would be riddled through like Swiss cheese, and I'd break apart quietly. I didn't deserve any less.

My bones felt stiff when I moved from lack of mobility. I stretched, and felt my muscles argue with this action. I decided a walk was best before I completely lost function of my legs. Peeking through my window, I saw the leaves swirling among themselves, blurs of browns and reds. I pulled on a darker sweater that matched my mood, and pulled up the hood as I left my room. I didn't want to know what I looked like, so I completely avoided the mirror.

My shoes caused the leaves to crunch underfoot, randomly sprinkled across the cobblestone path. I watched them fall from the trees without any real fascination. It wasn't until I heard my voice being called that I realized where I was. My treacherous feet had carried me to the wood shop. Oh, how I hated them at that moment.

"Molly!" I turned around this time to see Joe running towards me. He had on only a white sleeveless shirt, and his face was flushed. He had a big grin on his face revealing rows of perfect teeth. His brown hair was windblown and the bandana he usually wore on his head was tied around his upper arm. Arms outstretched, I didn't even stop to think what could cause this change of emotion. His arms wrapped around me, stopping me from falling backwards in the collision. He spun me around, and I let out a laugh, feeling much more like a girl than I could ever remember. He put me down gently, and his lips were on mine, and I could feel his smile beneath mine.

I felt dizzy; too much emotion in such a short time. When the adrenaline finally settled down, though my breathing didn't, and we parted, he whispered in my ear, "I have something to show you." I didn't even ask questions, I was just so happy that I didn't have to see him with an agonized look in his eyes. 

This was better that I could of ever asked for. He took one of my hands in his, and when we walked, he studied it. "You have such small hands," He said, comparing the porcelain of my skin to his warm complexion. I didn't say anything to this; I didn't know what to. When we were walking for a good ten minutes he pulled his hand away, and pulled off the bandana. "I want this to be a surprise," he said, and so I let him tie the bandana around my eyes. I hadn't said anything the whole time, I just let him play with my hair or kiss my hand as I studied his square jaw, his straight nose, his burning, brown eyes and the way his dark hair curled at the back of his neck. I subjected those to memory, keeping them locked up, so as never to lose them.

When the bandana was secured over my eyes letting only a peek of light through at the base of my nose, his hands wrapped around my wrists as he guided me forward. Not once did I mistrust him, though anyone knew if he had dug a big hole for me to die alone in it was nothing less than what I deserved.

He came to a stop and I followed suit. "Joe?" I asked. I only wanted to hear his voice to make sure he hadn't just led me deep into the forest and left me. But he breathed my name in return, and I noticed his voice was raspier than usual. I felt his long fingers pull at the bandana, and I turned to look at him, but he turned me around instead. I was looking at a log house- it had a handsome, simple build made with dark oak that looked like something from a movie. It had a quaint feeling about it, a nice little porch out front, and was seated right in the middle of a field of long grass. It brushed against my legs in the wind, and for some reason it felt familiar here. I looked to the right, where, just as I suspected, was a well, right at the edge of a forest.

"You..." I started, but the words were lodged on my throat. I blinked, my breathing slowed. "No." I whispered. It was impossible. This couldn't be... but it _was._ I couldn't force myself to leave now. I barely heard the words as my own, they sounded so alien to me.

"You rebuilt Paul's farm?"

**Author's Notes: **_Yeah. I don't have much to say here, 'cept your reviews make my day! I love hearing from anyone, but I've only got one these past three chapters.(I want to know how I'm doing and what more I can do to improve. _


	9. Fire In Her Eyes

Chapter 9

"Molly! I don't care if this is what you want anymore! I'm actually pretty sure it's not what you want- so why are you doing this?" I blinked. I had missed this part of the conversation- the part where my mom slammed down her coffee and yelled at me. Where was the turning point?

"Sorry?" I asked, confused. I scrunched my eyebrows together, something I did on reflex.

"You're going back."

"Where?" I was still trying to catch up. She gave me one of those looks.

"Wherever you're happy! I don't care where it is- I don't care if it's on the other side of the world. Just don't act like this."

"Act like what?" I knew she was losing patience, but I honestly was not following her.

"Molly, sweetie," she placed her hand on mine. It felt warm compared to my always cold fingers these days. "Were you happy there? In Flower Bud?"

"I gotta go; I'll be late for work." I mumbled. I tended to avoid conversations that needed feeling answers and not just statements of fact.

As I was crossing the walkway, I was distracted by a human-like screeching noise. There was a metallic crunch, and little millions of glass shards flew everywhere. As I was frozen in the middle of the walkway, I saw her. Shoulder's first, as if performing a somersault, she crashed through the windshield of the tan car that had been hit. Face up, she landed with a sickening thump a foot away from my boots, a pool of blood spilling from her head. And all I could do was stand there and gawk. As the red stain crept slowly towards my feet, I felt my breathing speed up, and turn to quick, rasping breaths. I started to shake, at first only my hands, and then my whole figure was trembling.

My throat felt like sandpaper, and I was starving for air. I tried to slow my breathing down, dark spots clouding my vision. The last thing I remembered was the cold sidewalk on my cheek and a dozen hands reaching towards me, before I sunk into darkness.

My eyelids felt heavy, but I forced them to flutter open. "Oh! Molly!" My mom was there, at the end of my bed. My bed with rails, I noticed. An annoying beeping noise could be heard in the background. "I was so worried!" She said, crossing the room and grabbing onto one of my hands.

"Wha-?" I started to croak. I tried to clear my throat, but my mouth was completely dry.

"You've been here for a few days," she said, as if that cleared it all up. I felt my face cloud over with confusion.

"Molly, honey, I think... I think maybe you should go back there. Or clear up whatever caused you to act so... so lifeless, really. I wish I knew what I could do to help..." She trailed off, her dark eyes worried. I pretended I couldn't hear anything she had just said.

"Maybe... maybe you're right. But I don't know if I could... if I could handle it." She didn't know anything. It probably would be very confusing through her eyes, me coming home and then me acting lifeless, as she put it. I closed my eyes, trying to think. I couldn't do this for much longer. Whatever this was.

She patted my hand comfortingly. "Is that what you want?"

No one had asked me that directly, not in the past three months. And I hadn't really given it a thought, either. They were strictly filtered so that I only thought of what I wanted to. But when she asked me that, it broke the barrier. Memories of his deep brown eyes boring into mine, leaving me speechless, his fingers grasping at the skin on my waist, the way his face lit up when he smiled, flooded my brain. I remembered his velvet voice, and the way he smelt like the forest after rain, a woodsy, musky scent. I remembered the way he breathed my name when my lips were crushed against his. I remembered.

I remembered.

I let out a gasp, seeing everything around me with new eyes. Like I had been walking around for a month with foggy glasses on, and they were finally removed. Everything had a new, crystalline appearance. And like crystal, everything was sharp, and jagged, and piercing.

And it kind of hurt, in a the-sun-is-good-but-burns-your-eyeballs kind of way.

The rest was blocked out. But I do remember my uncle throwing around words like "catatonic."

My mom just watched me with a worried expression as the small epiphany took seed and bloomed within me.

"Yes," I breathed. That was the only answer. I had to go back. To apologize, at the very least. The very most was too much to hope for. So I didn't think it. At the very most, I corrected myself, was that in sixteen hours you'll see him. Nothing more. Maybe he'll talk to you, maybe-

No. I had to learn to rein in my imagination, now that it was set loose. There was no doubt in my mind it could hurt me more than anything else.

Well, almost anything else.

When we got home, I was throwing any items my hands touched into a duffel bag, and I caught sight of the mirror over my desk. A girl I didn't recognize looked back at me, a hand moving to touch her pale cheek, framed by long, dark hair. It was a sickly kind of pale, not a creamy porcelain, and the purplish marks under her eyes looked forever etched into her skin. But her eyes didn't fit. They weren't dead-looking, like the rest of her skeletal features. They were alive, and dancing, and hopefully thawing out the rest of her features with their light. She let out a laugh, and the action felt wrong, somehow, like it was out of character. But a new character was taking place.

After hours on a plane and in crowded terminals, I was finally on the ferry. There were small bunks for each passenger, there were only three of us, and even though it was a short ride, I lay down in mine. It was going to be hard enough, and I didn't want to be loopy off of sleep deprivation. So I closed my eyes, and seconds later, a firm hand had shook my shoulder, letting me know that the hardest thing I would probably ever do was just moments away.


End file.
